In
"King Lear" at the Goodman Theatre we are told repeatedly, by various
characters in various ways, that "nothing can come from nothing". In
fact, a great deal of something emerges out of the orgy of chaos created by
director Robert Falls, his set designer Walt Spangler, lighting designer Michael Philippi, sound designer Richard
Woodbury,
costumer designer Ana Kuzmanic, and a fabulous cast. I believe this production will be
discussed for some time to come.
Child
loyalty and greed, legitimacy and illegitimacy, and the fine line between
passion and violence are all thrillingly evoked in this production. At first
blush, the costuming themes might have been suggested by the fascist
"Richard III" filmed by Ian McKellen in the 1990s, yet our tour goes
in another direction. This production's action begins as a decadent Slavic Euro
Trash retirement party for Lear (Stacy Keach) in which characterizations are
telegraphed from the first moments. Daughter Goneril (Kim Martin-Cotton) stares down the men, stalks the
stage, drags her fur behind her with abandon. Daughter Regan (Kate Arrington) is already so obliviously
gluttonous that she glugs a series of drinks so quickly that the liquid runs
down her chin, onto her party dress. Cordelia (Laura Odeh), the sole daughter who loves
Lear without pretense and without motive, is quiet, subdued, and dressed least
flamboyantly. Lear's obtuseness and insecurity are laid bare - he blatantly
craves the adulation he will miss when he steps down, and is unable to discern
the "true" from the "false" shows of love all around him.
Finally, we see the male characters displaying their roles to power through
their wives -- Goneril's husband Albany (Kevin Gudahl) and Regan's husband Cornwall (Chris
Genebach) -- or
through their claim to legitimacy -- Gloucester (Edward Gero), his legitimate son Edgar (Joaquin
Torres) and
illegitimate son Edmund (Jonno Roberts). The magic of this story and these performances
is that legitimate and illegitimate claims to relationships and connections to
power predict very little about individual behavior. Surprises abound, and
magnificently rich performances stud this production.
At
our initial proto Slavic family gathering with the handheld microphone moving
from testimonial to testimonial, Regan and Cordelia are first up, of course, to
curry favor and to offer obsequious words to Dad. True blue Cordelia isn't
having any of this game; and the King is not amused. "Nothing will come of
nothing" he warns her, yet Cordelia will not be cajoled into offering
false praise. This image of the house microphone at the wedding reception and
rented public hall testimonials is genius. This prop and all it symbolizes is
established here in this first scene, and makes a chilling and surprising
return appearance at the play's end.
Lear's
mad scene does not disappoint. His constant companion Fool (brilliantly played
by Howard Witt)
offers commentary and encouragement, and prompts Lear to some semblance of
awareness. Lear and the Fool ramble and rant, the rain falls the fall the full
height of the three story Goodman stage; ruins and junk piles surround them;
and strobe lights and cracks of thunder provide edgy parameters to the action.
An
intense sexuality is generated between sisters Goneril and Regan, balanced by
the Joan of Arc-like persona and solitary life of Cordelia, defending her
father and their lands. In fact, these daughters overwhelmed for me the
performances of the men on stage. In particular, Kim Martin-Cotton's Goneril
has the deep vocal qualities and powerful and solid stage presence of actresses
such as Kathleen Turner and Colleen Dewhurst and a deep boundless sensuality
that lingers long after her final, explosive, stage actions.
Edgy
violence is not at the boundaries but within these characters' personalities,
in the everyday relationships (from the expected such as physical fights
between political enemies to the unexpected such as marital rape portrayed to
illustrate power and control), and in images and references to off screen
action. One solemn silent sequence was among the most powerful passages I have
seen on stage in some time. After many scenes of emotional and physical and
aural (i.e. loud) violence, and in a visually tonal world of grays and blacks
and dramatic reds, we suddenly have village women in black and male field
medics in white slowly and deliberately and respectfully assemble on stage the
bodies (clearly mannequins) of battle dead shrouded in white. Body after body
is carried or dragged on stage. Nothing is romanticized, and nothing is easy
about these deaths nor about the care necessary to deal with the corpses after
death. This functions as a welcome and necessary pause in the verbal and
blazingly cacophonous action of the play. I can still feel the piling of these
shrouded bodies, in white, as silent testimonial to the human scale effects of
the decisions of kings and of presidents.
This
play leaves us in embattled and misguided political and human chaos, which
resonates locally and globally these days. A muscular vision by Robert Falls to
match the muscular language of this lovely play.